


Support

by themadmage



Series: themadmage's Harry Potter one-shots and standalones [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Loneliness, Memories, Musing, Old Age, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 20:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20681522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themadmage/pseuds/themadmage
Summary: Hermione thinks back on her life.





	Support

Hermione stood at her window and leaned heavily on her cane for support - the only constant source she still had. The ornately carved vines on the walking stick reminded her of her first wand, which she'd eventually had to replace when one of her grandchildren had gotten a hold of it and treated it too roughly. That may have been what inspired Harry and Ron to choose the design, though her vinewood wand had been long gone when they'd gifted her the cane for her hundred and twenty-first birthday. 

They were both gone now, Ron at one hundred and thirty-six and Harry at one hundred and sixty-three, but with the cane they'd given her in hand Hermione could still feel as though they were close. She didn't visit their portraits - in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts or in places of honor at the Ministry and St. Mungos'. It wasn't them, and she was better off with her memories. 

It was a lonely life, having outlived all of her friends. Her family. Hermione had five generations of children and grandchildren to come visit her, of course, but the older ones all had detailed lives of their own and the younger ones didn't have the patience to sit with an old woman who could no longer play like a child. Each smaller family visited Hermione every few months, and she found herself with visitors on most weekends. The weekdays in between, she spent reminiscing over her life - long and full of love and progress as it had been. 

Soon, a sixth generation of her descendants would begin - the eldest of Hermione's great-great-great-grandchildren was expecting. They would bring the baby to meet her as soon as they could travel, and Hermione looked forward to the day she held another new soul in her arms.

A cup of tea appeared on the windowsill at Hermione's elbow, and she sighed her thanks. In her youth Hermione had made great strides for the rights of house elves, working first in the DMLE, then later in the Minister's Office. She was more glad of it now than ever, when making her own tea meant a walk to the kitchen that was far more laborious than it had any business being even with her cane and making a proper meal from scratch was practically a distant dream.

Itty still worked seven days each week, but she was required a minimum of twelve hours of rest each day. There were no restrictions on house elves who found a life-mate starting families, and if Itty ever became sick there was a network of elves in place to take over her work while she recuperated. Physical punishments had been made illegal. Elves who were abused had somewhere to go for help. They wouldn't accept wages, but each family with elves was required to give them an expense account to spend as they saw fit over and above what costs the family's needs incurred. 

Occasionally, Hermione managed to convince Itty to sit with her and keep her company, but the elf still preferred to work out of sight. 

Once Hermione was confident that the house elves were as free and protected as they could be without terrorizing them - Hermione _had _grown since her days of frantic knitting in the Gryffindor common room - she'd moved on to rights for other sentient creatures. Lycanthropy was nearly eradicated after Hermione had ensured that all werewolves had access to wolfsbane, a safe place for the full moon, and healthcare in its aftermath. The few remaining werewolves had no difficulty finding employment as the laws restricting their rights had been stricken from the books over a century ago now. Goblins interacted with the Ministry through the Department of International Magical Cooperation instead of Control of Magical Creatures, and as a sovereign nation they determined their _own _rights within their borders. The lands and waters where centaurs and merfolk lived were protected from development or pollution by humans, allowing those races the peace and freedom to live their lives as they chose. Giants and vampires also had their own lands where they could live undisturbed, and the vampires were fed from humans on a solely volunteer basis. Hermione had volunteered for a time, to pilot the program and demonstrate its safety and effectiveness. There hadn't been a vampire attack on a non-willing victim in thirty years when Hermione retired at one hundred and thirty-five years old. 

Hermione finished her tea with a sigh, and thanked Itty again when the cup disappeared. She took up her cane and made her way to her room to prepare for bed. It was early, still, but tomorrow was to be a long day. Her one hundred and seventy-eighth birthday. Nearly all of her extended family would be visiting - between fifty and sixty people. She looked forward to seeing them, and yet-

For Hermione, who spent so much of her time alone, it would be a bit overwhelming. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Happy Birthday Hermione drabble/aesthetic fest in Hermione's Nook. My word was "cane".


End file.
